


Politics & Foreplay

by jdmcool



Series: Political Masterminds [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Thick of It (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft knows he probably shouldn't talk about DoSAC to Malcolm, but Malcolm appears to have ways of making him forget such a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics & Foreplay

**Author's Note:**

> Given the lack of Malcolm in tonight's episode and the lack of Mycroft/Malcolm as a pair, I've decided to rectify both matters in one swoop. Minor Spoilers for The Thick Of It 4.1

While the sound of the television on when he arrived home was a bit disconcerting, Mycroft had long since learned how to tell who could be visiting based on their choice of programming. If it was Sherlock, it would’ve been on something historical or scientific, while John would bide himself with crap telly after calling to make sure it was alright for him to be there in the first place. Lestrade, on the rare occasions he dared use his power in such a way watched whatever sport program he found interesting until Mycroft returned.

The sound of the squawking reporters, all clamouring to ask a question caused Mycroft to relax as he took his time putting away his coat and umbrella. Walking into the living room, he spared a glance at the two ministers, both looking quite miserable despite the smiles on their faces as they stood with a boy holding up their App-ortinutity sign, clearly filmed not long before such plans had come to an end. Sitting down next to Malcolm, who looked for all the world like he owned the place as he snacked on a curly wurly he’d been saving, Mycroft shook his head.

“Enjoying yourself?” Mycroft asked, not that the look of glee on Malcolm’s usual enraged face didn’t serve as answer enough.

“You know, I was bit angry when they first got control,” Malcolm said calmly as he pointed at the telly with his pilfered treat. “But seeing this? It’s like finding a million pounds shoved up a barely legal prostitute’s arse.”

“Nice to know you’re enjoying yourself,” he said as he made himself comfortable.

And it was, actually. Malcolm certainly hadn’t taken the loss of power lightly, nor did Mycroft expect him to. While some people may have taken a perverse joy in seeing the master spin doctor brought down a few notches, if they even believed it possible, Mycroft found the entire ordeal disheartening. Something about those days that Malcolm had spent in a quiet sulk, acting almost passively toward everyone almost made Mycroft want to tamper with the results.

Of course, while not out of his power, he would never abuse it in such a way for the sake of Malcolm Tucker’s happiness, watching the man everyone had come to know and hate return to his former self made Mycroft feel a bit better about how everything would turn out.

Scoffing at the television, Malcolm held out his curly wurly to Mycroft, a twisted little smile on his face.“Fucking national network? What kind of bollocks was that anyways?”

“It was a good idea, in the beginning,” Mycroft pointed out as he took the offered treat. It wasn’t allowed on his diet, something Malcolm had to know, hence the offer to share. “The PM was even rather for it until...”

“Until Mannion decided to treat the youth of Britain like they’re in fucking Hong Kong making overpriced trainers,”  Malcolm finished, shaking his head as he held back his laughter.

“You do know that next week—“

“Yeah, shut your fucking mouth, Mycroft. I don’t want to hear one more overly articulate word from you if it has anything to do with my side,” he warned, all humour gone in an instant.

Sighing, Mycroft listened, contenting himself with the remaining half of his curly wurly while Malcolm turned his attention back toward the telly. The fact that Malcolm still held him somewhat responsible for the change wasn’t a great shock as well. He could never get away with calling himself the British Government if there wasn’t some truth to it. The fact that he was in favour of the Coalition and even the changes that came with it, for the sake of the country, was rather assumed by all involved.

“Denial is a horrible state to find one’s self in, Malcolm,” Mycroft stated when the silence grew dull.

“Piss off.”

Looking at the very annoyed man at his side, Mycroft frowned. The last thing he wanted was for Malcolm to be upset yet again. Anger was one thing given that Malcolm had the face for it, but upset? Racking his mind for the easiest solution to his problem, Mycroft looked toward the television.

“Stewart was... I suppose heartbroken would be a good term, over the entire matter.”

Sitting up, Malcolm looked at Mycroft, eyes alight with joy. “Was he?”

“It may have been the failure or the fact that the PM used a go-between to contact him, but yes,” Mycroft said, hating himself for divulging the little secret.

“And Mannion?”

“Positively hates Fergus, which should come as no surprise.”

Chuckling to himself, Malcolm straddled Mycroft’s lap. Unbuttoning the man’s jacket, he said, “And Fergus probably wants to cram his computer bit by fucking gigabit down Mannion’s throat until he’s coughing up pixels.”

“I didn’t know you to be so computer savvy,” Mycroft said, trying to ignore the hands on his chest or the smell of chocolate on Malcolm’s breath.

Kissing up Mycroft’s neck, Malcolm smirked against  the spot where it met with his jaw. “Keep talking. I’m enjoying this now.”

“You realize what it says about you that you get physical pleasure from this?” Mycroft asked, not bothering to think of what it said about him given that he didn’t mind what turned Malcolm on as long as he reaped the benefits.

“I could listen to you read the bible and still get off, My. But you telling me about the shite time their doing over at DoSAC? That’s best foreplay I’ve ever heard of.” Nipping at his ear, Malcolm let out a small laugh as he ran his fingers along Mycroft’s tie. “Now if you stop one more time I’m going to going to strangle the life out of you with your tie, have you stuffed like a family pet and then rent you out to necrophiles to be used as a sex toy.”

Swallowing when Malcolm’s fingers came to rest against the knot of his tie, the threat of him loosening it just as likely as him tightening it, Mycroft nodded as calmly as he could. Certainly as a rule, most couples might avoid the mention of politics all together, let alone in the bedroom. But Malcolm and he weren’t most couples and the living room sofa wasn’t nearly as wonderful a place to have sex as their bed, not that he was going to make Malcolm stop long enough for them to go to their room.

Instead, he rested his hand on Malcolm’s thigh, eyes focused on the bulge in the man’s trousers. “Terri wants to be fired,” he said in as level a tone as he could muster with Malcolm nibbling at his jaw, fingers busy undoing his shirt since no one multitasked like Malcolm. “Mannion and Fergus both want her gone, but Fergus is keeping her on out of spite.”

“Dear God, don’t let that be all.”

It was, perhaps a bit perverse on both their parts, but if airing out their dirty laundry to Malcolm was what it took to keep the man happy, who was he to overlook such an easy task? After all, the British Government was supposed to see to the needs of all its people, starting with the one person that saw to his.


End file.
